Review: The Great Black Swamp

Cover image of "The Great Black Swamp" by Patrick Wensick

The Great Black Swamp

The Great Black Swamp, Patrick Wensick. Belt Publishing (ISBN: 9781540270108) 2025.

Summary: The swamp lands of northwest Ohio, their drainage and agricultural development, and toxic algae blooms.

I spent four years of my life driving back and forth across what was once known as the Great Black Swamp in northwest Ohio. It is probably the flattest place on earth. One of the towns in the heart of it, Bowling Green, reflects that flatness while ironically actually having a man-made hill that may be the highest point of the area! During growing season, as far as the eye can see, are fields of corn and soybeans growing in some of the richest soil (at least at one time) in the country. Usually, all that separated you from those fields when you drove on county roads were drainage ditches. In fact, those ditches are a major actor in the story Patrick Wensick tells. They served to drain nearly impenetrable swamp land that was subsequently cleared for those farms.

The occasion for Wensink’s book was the 2014 toxic algae bloom in western Lake Erie that rendered the city of Toledo’s water supply undrinkable for three days. A glass of the water could make you very sick or kill you. He describes the no-nonsense way of coping with this environmental disaster on the part of the people that typifies northwest Ohio culture. Those he interviewed didn’t think of it as that big of a deal.

So, he sets out to understand what led to the disaster. As it turns out, those swamps acted as a huge filtration system that kept Lake Erie clean. They also kept people out for a long time. The region was mosquito and malaria-ridden. The mortality rate of early settlers was high. Not only that, without adequate drainage, the first road through the region was a quagmire.

Then, a former ditchdigger with machine shop experience invented a machine that changed everything. James B. Hill invented and prototyped the first automated ditch digging machine in 1893. The Buckeye Traction Ditcher changed the face of northwest Ohio. Clearing the trees fed a lumber industry around which a number of small towns sprang up, including the author’s home town of Deshler. (Wensick even devotes a chapter to the town’s history including a girl’s poster saying “bring us together” that Richard Nixon and campaign aides saw on a whistlestop in the town and used to turn around his 1968 presidential campaign.)

He traces the agricultural history, including the high-yield production technology that defined the region. But it was also that technology, including fertilizers with nitrogen and phosphorus that led to Lake Erie’s algal blooms. During heavy rains, runoff went into those drainage ditches, all part of the Maumee River watershed, flowing into Lake Erie in Toledo. And the disappearance of all those swamps meant the loss of a filtration system.

Wensink tells that story through onsite interviews with everyone from Toledoans hanging out at Tony Packo’s to the conservation manager for the Black Swamp Conservancy. The latter is an effort to restore swamp habitats throughout the region. At this point, the effort is small. It does not make an appreciable difference in Lake Erie. But places like Bell Woods serve as learning labs for understanding swamp ecosystems. Wensick comes ill-prepared for the mucky and buggy landscape. He also frames much of the narrative with The Story of the Great Black Swamp, a VHS recording of a public television production narrated by Glen Colerider. He found the tape in the library at Bowling Green State university, where he did much of his research.

The account is highly readable, more memoir than dry history. However, as memoir, he also makes the choice to weave in the deterioration of his marriage during his research. The subtitle actually parallels toxic algae and toxic relationships. I wonder about the choice to include this, which I felt distracted from the interesting story he tells about northwest Ohio. Much as this might foster a connection with the author, I just didn’t think it added to his fascinating account.

After describing cuts to environmental efforts at the beginning of the current administration, he concludes with one more visit to the largest remnant of the Black Swamp. Better prepared, he visits Forrest Woods Nature Preserve outside of Defiance, Ohio. He helps dig trenches for a salamander fence, to help monitor the health of the population. A water-covered depression called “The Bowl” is the closest approximation to what the Swamp was like. Implicitly, he ends on a hopeful note, describing the slow, methodical work being done to restore habitats.

All in all, it’s a fascinating narrative combining history and science reporting with eyewitness accounts. It brought new understanding to me, having lived in and traveled this country. But more than this, it helps us understand a problem far more widespread than just the Lake Erie watershed. These blooms occur throughout the world, coinciding in many cases with the drainage of wetlands and swamplands. It gestures toward a way forward, if we act on our understanding of these ecosystems.

Review: The Things We Never Say

Cover image of "The Things We Never Say" by Elizabeth Strout

The Things We Never Say

The Things We Never Say, Elizabeth Strout. Random House (ISBN: 9798217154746) 2026.

Summary: Outwardly, Artie Dam is a beloved teacher; yet his life is fraught with the secrets kept by him and others.

He’s won “teacher of the year” awards. Students love and colleagues respect fifty-seven year old Artie Dam of the white socks and dumpy black tennis shoes. He teaches history. But more than that, he teaches students what special and unique persons they are. He lives on the New England coast and the beautiful old family home of his wife Evie. The son of a handyman/apartment supervisor whose mother struggled with insanity, his marriage to Evie meant marrying up into a wealthy family. However life seems good with outings with close friends and sailing in the bay.

And yet Artie is deeply troubled. It is the run-up to the 2024 election and its troubling prospects. Then there are all the unresolved feelings about his son, Rob’s, accident in which the girl he was with died. Since that time, Rob has become more distant, although successful in his work. The accident separates him, he senses, from Evie, who deals with her grief by becoming a therapist. A family friend he often confided in moves away after her husband’s death and he misses her. He expresses these things only to himself in his thoughts. He even obsesses about ending his life through suicide.

Then a boating accident where he nearly drowned brings him to understand he does not want to die. Not only that, his son, who seems to have suspected that he might have tried ending his life, draws closer. And he begins meeting Ken Moynihan, and starts sharing some of the secrets and questions that trouble him. It lifts him.

Then he learns of a secret involving his wife and closest friends. Not only that, it is a secret they knew. So, what should Artie do? Does he participate in the secret, acting as if he doesn’t know? Or does he reveal that he knows, risking his marriage?

It tears Artie apart. He even takes up petty shop-lifting. Meanwhile, he continues to care deeply for his students, particularly a troubled young woman and young man, whose lives he changes. But can he live with the loneliness of the unspoken, the secret lives and lies of which he is a part?

Strout explores the deep pain of human existence. Although we may seem embedded in close relationships, there are the secret hopes, the hidden transgressions “we never say.” We long to know and make ourselves known to others. Yet, we fear that such revelations may shatter rather than strengthen relationships. And so we live in the proximate companionships, respecting the boundaries of what we cannot say. Yet we long for one who knows all our secrets and never flinches, and never stops loving.

The Weekly Wrap: October 11-17

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The Weekly Wrap: October 11-17

Ohio Authors

Toni Morrison, R.L. Stine, Sherwood Anderson, James Thurber, Paul Laurence Dunbar, Mary Oliver, Zane Gray, Hanif Abdurraqib, Anthony Doerr, and Ernie Cline. These are just a few of the authors who come from Ohio.

So why do I focus on Ohio authors? Because I have lived my life in the Buckeye State. If nothing else, Ohio doesn’t get very much positive press. But it is a place with many booklovers. And we are proud of our authors.

Not only that, Ohio authors often write with a sense of their place. Many of us love our place with something of an inchoate sense. But writers from that place capture the place in words and give us words to love it. For example, Hanif Abdurraqib and Wil Haygood both capture something of the culture and history of my current home town of Columbus. Patrick Wensink, who grew up in northwest Ohio, where I lived for four years, evokes the character of that place in a book I will review next week.

Those are some of the reasons I love to review books from Ohio authors as well as books on Ohio. One of this week’s articles features a review of an author from Appalachian Ohio. So, if you are an Ohio author, I will give a request to review your book more attention than usual. And, wherever you live, I would encourage you to read the authors from that place.

Five Articles Worth Reading

This review of a new biography from the New York Times caught my attention. “When Edward Hopper Painted Lonely People, He Was Channeling America” explores how Hopper captured his time.

This review by Appalachian ohio author Madeleine ffitch (her preferred spelling) also caught my attention. “Good Villains Are Hard to Come By. This One’s Great” describes a Neo-Nazi type who gathers a growing following in the time and the efforts to resist her. The town, Avalon is likely loosely based on Athens, Ohio.

I’ve gotten the emails this article talks about. Most mention books I’ve never written and many clearly have been AI-generated. But real authors are being scammed as reported in “The Lucrative World of Literary Scams.” Yet another reason AI has no place in the world of book publishing.

Aryana Petrosky determined to apply the practices Miroslav Volf outlines in Excusion and Embrace while living at a L’Abri community. That is, she committed to (1) standing confidently, (2) opening one’s arms, and (3) patiently waiting for a complete embrace. In “Encountering the Other” she describes the challenges and fruit of pursuing these steps.

Finally, many of us were repulsed by the Secretary of War’s recent proposal to livestream an execution. But can you articulate why public executions are such a bad idea? “Alypius, Public Executions, and the Formation of Souls” discusses the harm to our souls such experiences wreak.

Quote of the Week

Eugene O’Neill was born on October 16, 1888. He observed:

“Obsessed by a fairy tale, we spend our lives searching for a magic door and a lost kingdom of peace.”

His remark reminds me of what C.S. Lewis said: “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

Miscellaneous Musings

For years, I might get one or two views from China in a month, likely because of their information firewalls. Suddenly, I’ve started seeing numerous visits, sometimes almost as many as from the U.S. I suspect it’s their AI bots scraping my site. But if there are real people out there, welcome.

For some odd reason, I’ve had several bouts of cellulitis in my hands, easily cleared up each time by an antibiotic. Reading about it, I’ve learned that, untreated, it could turn into septicemia and kill me. Infections like this were once a major cause of death (and sadly still are in some places). It’s made reading The Age of Cures by Barry Werth all the more fascinating because it describes the research and the people and companies who brought us those antibiotics that have saved so many lives.

Finally, reviewing means I get and read the new Advent books early so I can publish reviews ahead of the season. The challenge is to set aside the actual season as one of preparing myself for Christ’s coming. For me, it means turning to other practices, or books acquired in past years.

Next Week’s Reviews

Monday: Elizabeth Strout, The Things We Never Say

Tuesday: Patrick Wensick, The Great Black Swamp

Wednesday: Heidi Ann Russell, Human Flourishing in a World of Trauma and Stress

Thursday: Barry Werth, The Age of Cures

Friday: Gayle Boss, All Creation Waits

So, that’s The Weekly Wrap for October 11-17.

Find past editions of The Weekly Wrap under The Weekly Wrap heading on this page.

Review: Candles in the Darkness

Cover image of "Candles in the Darkness" by Lynneth Miller Renberg and Adam R. Renberg

Candles in the Darkness

Candles in the Darkness, Lynneth Miller Renberg and Adam R Renberg. IVP Academic (ISBN: 9781514014226) 2026.

Summary: Daily readings for Advent and Christmastide featuring excerpts from authors from the second to thirteenth centuries.

Cosmas the Melodist. Dhouda. Dunstan of Canterbury. Egeria. Ephrem the Syrian. Proba. Hadewijch of Brabant. Hrosvitha. Jacob of Serug. Narsai. Paula the Elder. Romanos the Melodist. These figures from the second to thirteenth centuries join more familiar figures like Ambrose, Augustine, Basil the Great, Francis of Assisi, Hildegard of Bingen and Irenaeus in this collection of Advent and Christmastide readings. Men and women from various walks of life and three continents guide us in waiting for the One to come and to celebrate His birth.

This collection of readings follows the four weeks from the first Sunday of Advent through to Christmas and the day of Christmastide ending with Epiphany. Each week is organized around a theme that the readings follow: the coming of Christ in redemption, sanctification, glory, and the O Antiphons.

The authors introduce the book with an explanation of the liturgical seasons of Advent and Christmastide, how these developed in the life of the church, and the distinctive idea of this book, listening to early and medieval Christians. They also offer a two page introduction to the theme of each week. The introduction of the O Antiphons was especially helpful. (The most famous of these is O Come, O Come Emmanuel.)

Each day’s readings incorporate four elements. First is a scripture passage to read. Then follows a reading that relates to the passage in most cases. The authors follow this with reflections that suggest the contemporary relevance of the passage and reading. Then the day’s reading includes a prayer taken from liturgies, from historical persons, or in sometimes, the authors.

At the end of the book, there are alphabetically-ordered biographical sketches of the authors. Each biography includes English translations of each author.

Those writing from other times often offer distinctive insights. For example, Bernard of Clairvaux observes that there are actually three Advents. Not only is there the Advent of Christ’s birth and the Advent of Christ’s return. There is also the quiet coming of Christ through his Spirit. Also, I would highlight the reading by Macrina, an extraordinary prayer from the lesser known sister of Gregory of Nyssa and Basil of Caesarea.

The authors’ reflections are also helpful. For example, in responding to Bernard on the “middle coming” they suggest the importance of both sacrament and scripture in the ways Christ comes to us.

Finally, each reading is three or four pages, plus the scripture passage. So, it might take roughly fifteen minutes or so each day. In addition, the material is written at an adult level, so this would not work as a family Advent resource. However, for people who want to listen to different voices, and very substantive meditations, this is a great devotional.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.

Review: Freely Sober

Cover image of "Freely Sober" by Eicka Andersen

Freely Sober

Freely Sober, Ericka Andersen. InterVarsity Press (ISBN: 9781514013366) 2026.

Summary: Writing for Christian women from experience with alcohol dependency and recovery, offers help in honest thinking about alcohol.

She was a Christian active in her church. She led Bible studies with other women, cared for her children and worked. And she increasingly suspected her relationship with alcohol wasn’t a helpful one, especially when she covered up her secret drinking and the effects of hangovers. And it was easy to justify. Drinks (sometimes too many) with friends. Wine while making dinner as well as with it. She knew the health effects of alcohol but continued to struggle with the need to drink. Finally, she acknowledged she had a problem, eventually reaching out to online and in-person groups, and finding renewed hope through her faith as she took steps toward sobriety. This is Ericka Andersen’s story and she writes for other Christian women who think it might be their story as well.

Instead of ultimatums or shaming, Andersen invites her readers to be “sober curious.”

“Being ‘sober curious’ was the catalyst for shifting my perspective in a life-changing direction. Being sober curious means asking questions about drinking–yours, theirs, and everyone’s. It means educating yourself about alcohol and asking insightful questions about how drinking affects you and those around you without judgment” (p. 22).

This “sober curious” approach is what is behind the “freely” in the title. Rather than add to the pressures in a reader’s life, she invites them, if they are uneasy about their own relationship to alcohol, to explore and then freely make their own decisions, empowered by this process and their faith. “Freely” also refers to the freedom she has experienced in sobriety “where you don’t question when, how much, or if you should drink at all.”

Each chapter comes with exercises that foster this curiosity. Perhaps the most important is at the end of the first chapter, “Let’s Come Clean.” Questions walk the reader through considering the impact of alcohol on their physical health, faith life, relationships, emotional and mental well-being, and professional life and calling. Then Andersen explores the question of whether Christians should drink. She comes down on this as an expression of our freedom in Christ. But if it fosters captivity rather than freedom, that is good reason to not exercise that freedom.

She then explore the unique tensions women experience, including social pressures. Andersen looks at how alcohol is used to self-medicate as a coping mechanism. Then there are the triggering situations that precede drinking and beginning to choose alternative responses when you recognize the triggers. Amidst all this her watchword is self-compassion and forgiveness. She calls out the bad theologies that stigmatize those who struggle with alcohol.

Instead, she traces a healing journey that begins with inviting God and others into one’s life. She talks about the places where one may find support. Healthy habits, positive triggers are discussed and identified. She honestly discusses the positive experiences one may associate with alcohol, and her own discovery that many didn’t require alcohol. Andersen is also honest about when we fail and that many relapse, and then get up and return to sobriety.

The book mixes spiritual encouragement with practical steps as well as honesty that admits that living sober can be hard but that “it works if you work it.” Andersen is candid about her own struggles and failures, including a relapse after giving a public testimony. The book also offers a variety of books, resources, and recovery groups.

While written for women, men can find benefit as well. This may be an especially helpful book for spouses of women going through recovery. It would not surprise me that alcohol dependency among women in the church is far higher than one might think. The good news is that one needn’t struggle in secret, that one can freely choose to be sober curious, that there is a community to support us, and a God who longs for our healing. Ericka Andersen’s book is tangible evidence for all of this.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.

Review: The Rise and Fall of the Artificial State

Cover image of "The Rise and Fall of the Artificial State" by Jill Lepore

The Rise and Fall of the Artificial State

The Rise and Fall of the Artificial State, Jill Lepore. Liveright (ISBN: 9781324098423) 2026.

Summary The rise of machine rule and the corporations that make them, its impacts, and possible demise.

Artificial intelligence. Data centers. So much of what I read these days expresses the concern of these two connected things. Could artificial intelligence not only take our jobs and mimic our human creation but could it even take our lives? Large corporations are building data centers, many using as much power and water as a city and occupying, in many cases, formerly productive farmland. For historian Jill Lepore, these are manifestations of an underlying reality, one that has been decades in the making: the Artificial State.

What does Lepore mean by the “Artificial State”? Writing of the Silicon Valley billionaires leading this movement, aspiring to escape their own bodies and to upload their consciousness to computers, she observes: “The Artificial State they envision for everyone else, and have begun to build, is a future in which humans are ruled, and many replaced, by machines owned by the corporations owned by themselves.” The machines place human governance with digital infrastructure.

But how did we get here? As a historian, Lepore traces the history of both technological developments and the ideology of technocracy from the first calculating machines to the latest AI releases. She traces the work on “machines that think” from the early computers of the 1940’s to the present. Lepore traces the increasing use of computers in political processes from computation to prediction. Then there is the revolution of social media, literally fueling revolutions and accentuating political divisions and propaganda. Finally, we enter the AI era where the possibility of machines both displacing humans on a massive scale and controlling their lives becomes a reality.

The second part of the book turns to the fall of the Artificial State. Lepore take a novel, as in science fiction novel, approach. Fundamentally, her thesis is that the very works that were meant as cautionary tales have been read by our contemporary tech leaders as a blueprint for the tools they build. She shows, for example, how Elon Musk completely misreads Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Lepore discusses the warnings inherent in the works of Isaac Asimov and more recently Murderbot author Martha Wells. She explores everything from the disposibility of earth’s environment, assumed by tech leaders, to the rights of robots when they evidence marks of sentience. By the way, she observes that the architects of the Artificial State are not particularly concerned about rendering the earth uninhabitable:

“They had escape plans: Elon Musk to Mars, Mark Zuckerberg to the metaverse, Peter Thiel to his land in New Zealand, Jeff Bezos to space, Sam Altman’s brain uploaded to the cloud. They weren’t saving humanity; they were preparing to abandon it.”

Lepore, however, is not pessimistic. She believes the Artificial State is not fated. She affirms the institutions of democracy, particularly the consent of the governed. For all the bandied-about intelligence, she argues that much of the Artificial State is badly conceived, on shaky intellectual, and technological foundations. Instead, she believes we have the chance to envision a better future rather than cede it to the tech titans.

But it is here that I have questions for Lepore. Where is the alternative intellectual framework that envisions life differently than in a tech-enabled future? Why have we so readily accepted everything from smartphones and social media to AI? Why doesn’t it trouble us to see huge server farms displacing food farms? Are we disturbed by species extinctions to fuel the energy intensive AI? What happens when we prioritize energy for datacenters over affordable energy for heating and cooking? Behind all this, I wonder why we have assented to all this. What does it reveals of our true beliefs and values?

Jacques Ellul, Lewis Mumford, and Paul Kingsnorth have gone further in articulating the intellectual framework need to resist techno-capitalism. In Against the Machine, Paul Kingsnorth envisions a culture that values past, people, place, and prayer. I hear Lepore only hoping to use political processes already eaten alive by techno-capitalism. I question whether, apart from these other things, it will have the substance to resist.

This said, Lepore offers a cogent historical analysis and an interesting study of the science fiction intellectual history tech leaders have misread. Understanding this “past” is important and I hope others will build on Lepore’s work.